Mass Effect: Survival
by GladiusFerrum
Summary: (Prequel to Mass Effect: The Ark) Neil Collins, a young biotic is trying to survive on the invaded city of Vancouver, with uncertainty who he could trust. As he tries to survive, he discover the truth behind his origins and why so many people are interested in what he can do.


**PROLOGUE**

The dying star still pulsed with energy, its colors mixing together like the brush strokes on a painting. A man was watching the lantern of the galaxy. In his right hand, a lit cigarette's smokes danced like a roller coaster, up until the closest ventilation shaft. The wrinkled fingers on his other hand drummed impatiently on the armrest.

The Illusive Man didn't like to wait. It felt as if a hand held his heart in its grasp, his organ panicking and beating madly.

_What is taking him so long?_ he wondered. Time was running out, the Reapers knocked on the doors and he couldn't accept any failures from his operatives anymore.

_Cerberus has to be stronger than ever. And that includes me too._

He knew. He had the best shot to be the one who could save humanity. To be in control, to have all the power he sought for so many years like a starving animal for a chunk of meat. The scent addicted him to it, a drug that outweighed the infamous red sand.

_But I'm not controlled by my lust. I'm in control_, he kept telling himself, yet a different, silent voice whispered he was wrong.

On his armrest, a pulsing green light appeared. In the darkness of the office, it felt like as if he looked straight into the beams of a lighthouse.

_It's him. At last._

With a touch, a life-sized hologram of an Alliance Marine showed up in front of him. The Illusive Man stubbed the cigarette from his hand and looked up to the young soldier with his glowing eyes, blue as the sky above his home planet.

The soldier wore the standard military armor. His curly hair, black as the darkness of space, reached his neck. Grey locks in the blackness hinted he had seen enough during his years, yet his cheeks were smooth as a child's.

"Lieutenant, I hope you're contacting me because you found _the kid_," the Illusive Man opened without even greeting the other one. Formalities were just time-consuming these days.

"I'm sorry sir, not yet. But I'm really close. I discovered they took him to– ."

Before the Marine could finish the sentence, the Illusive Man sighed loudly. He felt each vein in his body as his blood pressure elevated higher and higher, like a cup getting filled until the liquid poured on the table. _Incompetent bastard_, he thought.

"They took him to Vancouver, sir," the lieutenant finished in the end.

The Illusive Man remained silent. He needed another smoke, and a good one. _Maybe a cigar_, his thoughts drifted away. He stroked his eyebrows with two fingers. _Before you can control the world, you have to conquer yourself_, he told himself to ease his frustration.

"I am fairly disappointed, Lieutenant. As you know, that boy and his abilities can provide a much needed advantage in the coming fight. You've been looking for him for months without a clue and now the Reapers are right on their way to Earth," he said, with his tone perfectly calm, like still water.

He caught the signs of surprise and fear on the operative's face. His eyes widened, as if he was crying for his mother.

The Illusive Man had to smile in the shadows.

"I assume you are familiar with the expected effects of their arrival on the planet.," he added, just to make the soldier more uncomfortable. It all felt like taking a toy away from a child. So easy, yet so satisfying. _How did I even think he was capable to do this simple mission?_

"Yes, sir. But the Alliance hid him really well when they took him from that damn farm," the soldier told.

"Enough with the excuses, Lieutenant!" he raised his voice. "Find him _A.S.A.P_. and get him out of there. Soon, all hell will break loose on Earth. If you fail, let me promise you, that I'll make you suffer worse than the Reapers."

_That should do it_, the Illusive Man thought after his short speech, disconnecting the line. He leaned back in his chair and lit another cigarette. His favorite brand felt so delicious today, like the taste of victory. But he still had to wait for that meal.


End file.
